


Drawing Down the Moon

by Spacii



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Gaius, Chivalrous!Arthur, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Magic Revealed, Merlin is secretly a Disney princess, Outdoor Sex, Religious Content, Sad!Dragon, Sex Magic, Sexual Content, UST, Vaguely Crack-like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-03
Updated: 2012-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-02 23:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacii/pseuds/Spacii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>’Stay here and wait for Gaius? Sure. The safest place to be when surrounded by mind altering magic, obviously, is the Crown Prince’s bedroom. The King will never find me here!’</i> Merlin thought, a bit hysterically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawing Down the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This is my [ Merlin_Games](http://merlin-games.livejournal.com/profile) entry on LJ.  
> Canon up until the beginning of Season 2 and Ivan was borrowed from my good friend and elaborated upon.  
> I owe my Beta’s [Venivincere](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Venivincere/pseuds/Venivincere) and [Happyevraftr](http://archiveofourown.org/users/happyevraftr/pseuds/happyevraftr) **ALL THE THINGS EVER!**  
>  **Prompt and Prompt ID:** 221 - [ Drawing Down the Moon](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drawing_down_the_Moon_%28ritual%29)

It had been a longer day than usual for Merlin. March had arrived and with it plowing season for this year’s crops. The days had become longer and the wind blew cold. Everyone worked late into the day to break the softening earth to sow the spring grains and prepare for the Equinox feast. The Knight’s training regime increased nearly double, much like their repertoire of “plowing” jokes, the Council prepared this year's round of diplomatic chess with allies and enemies alike as roads and passes opened for travel, and servants ran through the castle with lists of duties as long as their masters titles for the day.

Merlin enjoyed this time of year immensely, as everyone worked together towards a common goal and most would-be assassins were either recovering from winter or still making their way to the castle. Granted, his duties were increased but still he was able to spend more time with Gaius working as his apprentice rather than mucking out stables as sickness tended to spread during this time.

This day in particular had been busy and Merlin was feeling a bit spread thin. From bringing a tonic to ease an old man’s passing, to learning last minute methods of midwifing a breech birth calf from an irate woman with a broken leg, and of course rushing to make sure that Arthur’s sword and armor were not only spotless but as protected from rust as possible. He was exhausted. Heavy feeling limbs and an _aching_ back forced him to practically hobble his way across Gaius’s workroom to his own bedroom. Merlin hoped he wasn’t coming down with something. The feast was only days away and he was going to have far too many chores to handle while healthy, much less ill.

Pain beat out a jaunty tune in his head and every playful flutter of sunlight across his over sensitive eyes had him cursing the very cradle of creation. What he wouldn’t do for some relief! He, very carefully, closed his door and blocked off all light from the window while pondering the possible repercussions of bringing about sunset an hour or two early...

Gaius would frown upon such behaviour. Eyebrows would raise. Merlin could hear him now...

_“You destroyed all hope of a united Albion and everlasting peace because of a **migraine**!?”_

_“You **cannot** reveal yourself, Merlin!”_

_“Remember your **DESTINY** , Merlin!”_

_**“THE LEECH TANK NEEDS CLEANING AGAIN, MERLIN!”** _

He growled wrathfully and punched his pillow into fluffy submission, kicked off his shoes with the vague notion of taking a quick nap before helping Arthur prepare for the knights celebration tonight. The long days of hunting will require strong, well fed men to provide for the larger Spring celebration in a few days time. Carefully laying down, Merlin curled under the blanket and slowly, unfortunately, fell into a deep sleep.

 

\-------------------------

The sound of his door bouncing off the stone wall as it was kicked open by a very irate Prince startled Merlin into an immediate state of alert and prepared readiness. Which in reality looked a bit more like jumping up, falling off the bed backwards, and then attempting to focus a squinty-eyed gaze at the intruder from the floor while sporting a _terrible_ case of bedhead.

At least to Arthur’s trained eye.

“Arfur?”

He sighed, highly put upon. “That would be **Sire** to you, _Mer_ -lin!”

“Arfur.” Merlin mumbled in affirmation, crawled back onto the bed and snuggled down into the thin mattress as “Arfur” stared down incredulously at him.

The sheer _nerve_!

“Up. UP! You layabout!” Arthur shoved him back out of the bed.

“O-oi!” Merlin crashed to the floor again in a whirl of flailing limbs. “I’m up!” He whined indignantly. A disbelieving snort and a jacket to the face was Arthur’s only response.

Unbelievable. The entire castle was running about as if under siege. He has spent _days_ locked in the council room with his father preparing treaties, arranging castle maintenance, and directing every detail related to this year's planting down to crop rotation! Along with training his knights and going out on multiple hunts to provide for the table and tonight’s smaller feast, Arthur was exhausted. Yet, here was Merlin, sleeping as soundly as a bear cub in his little darkened cave without a care in the world. Arthur nobly refrained from knocking him upside the head and instead stormed dramatically out of the room, growling orders behind him. He’d throw him in the stocks but there really was no more time to waste.

 

\-------------------------

Merlin was mortified. He _never_ overslept like that, and most certainly not in the middle of the day! The ache in his head was almost completely gone and was replaced instead by a fuzzy light-headed buzzing and what felt like the beginnings of a harsh fever. His body ached dully with each step and his skin felt so hot he was sure he must look like death warmed over and left to rot. Still, he had his duties to attend to, and attend to them he would!

Arthur caught him as he nearly fell backward down the stairs.

“What are you doing, you idiot! Be more careful.” He snapped at Merlin who just stared back, a blank sort of expression on his face. Arthur shook his head, obviously confused, and continued walking. It was then that Merlin suddenly noticed that Arthur’s hair gleamed quite beautifully in the torchlight. It was slightly mesmerizing. Shaking his head and slapping his cheeks he tried to get a hold of himself and pushed forward.

 

\-------------------------

Clearly something was wrong.

Typical clumsy behaviour aside, there wasn’t anything to suggest that Merlin was sick in any way from what Arthur could see. His cheeks were flushed a healthy sort of pink and those ridiculously blue eyes were practically sparkling despite Merlin’s obvious sleepiness.

He was so distracted by those eyes it took a moment for him to realize what was actually wrong with Merlin. He was oddly attractive and clearly had a fever. Arthur scowled irritably.

“Come here.”

Merlin turned from the armoire holding a blue, and slightly more refined, version of Arthur’s favourite long brown coat and a simple but stunning coronet in hand.

“Yes, sire?” Merlin mumbled distractedly.

“Come here, Merlin.” Arthur repeated, slowly, as if speaking to a very dull-witted child.

“I’m not _touched_ , sire, just tired.” Merlin parroted back, just as slowly.

Arthur was going to throttle him.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur stalked over to the armoire, snatched the jacket out of Merlin’s limp grasp and put the back of his hand to his forehead. As suspected it was unnaturally warm. He sighed in vexation and Merlin stumbled backward and would have fallen inside if Arthur hadn’t grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. Very warm.

“You’re ill,” Arthur growled, he hurriedly stepped back and pulled his coat on.

“M’not,” Merlin muttered rebelliously, flushed, and wide-eyed.

“You **are** ,” Arthur gritted out. The atmosphere was... unsettling. He adjusted his coronet just so and leveled a firm look at the lanky idiot. “You can finish preparing my room for the night but I don’t expect to see you again until tomorrow. Hopefully by then you’ll have regained your senses and the kingdom won’t have the threat of plague hanging over its head.” Ignoring Merlin’s indignant squawk, he blithely continued, “Don’t worry about tonight’s feast either, I’ll have young Ivan serve me. He could use the practice.”

Arthur closed the chamber door with a stern sort of finality. Really, he was too kind sometimes.

 

\-------------------------

The man was a thoughtless clotpole!

Merlin shuffled around the room, shakily attending to his duties, and muttering wrathfully under his breath. It’s not as if he had been lazing abed all day! He was a dutiful apprentice and he bloody well deserves a knighthood for all he does for his “Lord, High and Mighty Prince Prat”!

Merlin was mutinously listing all the reasons he was an excellent servant and did not deserve to be sent to bed like a child, though the break was very much appreciated, when he stumbled and ran into the table. Cursing under his breath, he stormed over to the bed and turned down the sheets with swift movements.

He was not sick!

Then the room started to spin, and every candle blazed as the pain in his head suddenly returned in a searing wave of heat. He fell gasping onto the bed, pupils dilated until only a thin band of gold remained. A strong, unnatural wind blew through the room leaving it dark and still. The silence, along with a strong chill was all Merlin could make out before falling unconscious.

 

\-------------------------

Without Merlin there to serve Arthur, it was up to Ivan to perform this important task. He’d heard all about how the son of a farmer had come to Camelot to make something of himself and had managed to gain such a prestigious position by saving the Prince. He hoped that one day he would be able to be as successful as Merlin. Perhaps even serve the King himself one day!

Eyes shining proudly he carefully poured the expensive wine into the jug. He would guard his master’s cup like a hawk! No poison, or vile fiend will find their way to the Prince tonight!

_‘Now, what was the next step...? Ah! The water!’_ He thought to himself.

It was hard to see into the jug but it was the only other one there with the special design so Ivan very carefully mixed its contents into the matching wine jug. The Prince must have a decently full cup throughout the evening and still be of sound of mind by the end of the night, so watering down the wine was very important. Merlin was so smart! Ivan briefly wondered how he managed to keep the wine still so sweet and delicious when mixed with so much water though.

Tottering off with a now full jug and focused on being the very best servant he could be, Ivan never heard Gwen asking about the half empty jug of mead left on the table. The poor boy had no idea that throughout the night he would be vigilantly serving Arthur a full, undiluted jug of a potent mixture of wine and honey mead.

 

\-------------------------

Merlin slowly began to wake from what had to have been the most luxurious sleep he’s ever had. From what he could tell there were no aches, no pains, and no fever at all. He couldn’t quite remember what happened exactly after Arthur dismissed him for the night. Judging from how he felt though he must have made it back and taken a tonic. He felt _much_ better.

Sighing contently under the oddly comfortable weight pinning him to what must be his bed Merlin turned his head towards the pink glow of sunrise and gingerly opened his eyes. Where he found himself a hairsbreadth away from Arthur’s peacefully slumbering face.

His felt his heart stop in his chest.

Merlin was close enough to count individual eyelashes and could even feel his warm breath skim across his cheek and tickle his ear. Then, with a vague sort of horror, he realized that the weight pinning him to the bed must be Arthur. The Prince was nestled into his side with an arm slung over his chest and a thigh hitched up snug and firm between Merlin’s legs.

Along with this revelation was the knowledge that he will undoubtedly die a slow, and painful death if he didn’t get the hell out of there _right now_.

Yet, he couldn’t move.

The warm languor was paralyzing, and no matter how hard Merlin tried he could only lay there in an unnatural euphoria as Arthur lazily opened his eyes and asked him in a sleepy rasp, “What on earth are you doin’ here?”

Merlin began to shake, he didn’t know what to do or how to possibly explain this. His panic must have shown clearly on his face because Arthur’s plush, red mouth pursed unhappily and he sluggishly tried to sit up and look around. It caused his thigh to inadvertently grind in between Merlin’s in a way that was impossible for either of them to ignore.

Merlin gave a choked off gasp, turned his head away as if to hide into the pillow, clearly far too distressed to feel his body temperature spike feverishly high again. Arthur reared up in surprise, his face red with embarrassment, and Merlin took a deep breath to say _something_ , **_anything_**.

“You smell like strawberries.” He groaned.

The scent was intoxicating. He was dizzy with it and his skin felt too tight, as if he was casting some great magic. Then he felt the fever rise up on him again and he had just enough presence of mind to be conscious of the fact yes, he did just say that to Arthur, and he was rock hard underneath the man with with no way hide it.

 

\-------------------------

There was something very wrong here, and Arthur was not referring to heavy scent of hibiscus flowers in the air either. The last thing he remembered from last night was the feast with the Knights and the many toasts of success they had called for the spring hunt. As he attempted to sit up, Arthur realized he was still a bit drunk and that told him all he needed to know about why he couldn’t remember anything at all about last night.

He was trying to cobble together some coherent form of thought and struggling to get away from Merlin, who he’d been apparently snuggling into the bedding all night. Then he said something unexpectedly indecent about _strawberries_ and Arthur’s dick twitched in response.

“Wha --- ?” He slurred, confused.

The fragrance of hibiscus grew suddenly stronger and his limbs weakened to the point they were unable to hold his weight any longer. He found himself fully sprawled on top of a too-hot Merlin whose face was turned away, shaking like a leaf under him. Apparently he was the source of that breathtaking smell. Arthur hummed a little in appreciation then frowned again against the smooth line of Merlin’s neck. His mind cleared enough to realize that he might be being influenced by something more than just last night’s drink.

Before he could latch on to this last instinctual bit of self preservation a passionate fervour fell upon him like a blacksmith’s hammer; relentlessly, until all he could do was bite down on the soft flesh against his mouth and writhe. Arthur _ached_ with how hard he was.

Merlin, the idiot, was no help. He just gave it up, spread his thighs wide and bucked up against him. The pleasure-pain of blunt nails digging into his buttocks had Arthur snarling and snaking an arm around Merlin’s waist to lift his hips in time with his needy thrusts.

He was clinging tight and babbled filthy nonsense into Arthur’s ear that he could only partially make out. Something about fucking strong, sexy, and destiny. It was clear to him that Merlin wasn’t quite in his right mind, which was a disturbing enough thought that Arthur was able to slow down and see the helpless look of bliss on his face and the blazing orange-gold of his eyes.

His cock pulsed wetly in appreciation of the sight and a desperate sort of hysteria bubbled up in his chest. This. This was magic. They were being influenced, _used_ , by **magic**! The red haze of his rage was just enough to overcome the urge to rut against Merlin until they were a damp, satiated mess.

Giving one last stinging bite to Merlin’s throat, Arthur shoved him down on the mattress and rolled off the bed. He fell against the bedside table on his way down and sent most of the keys flying off their hooks. When he managed to find his footing and get some distance between himself and the bed, Arthur slowly turned and allowed himself to assess the situation.

Sprawling vines of ivy climbed his bed and walls. He watched, stunned, as one coquettishly twisted and twined its way up his desk chair to sprout and wiggle coyly in his general direction. Almost hesitantly he took a couple of steps toward the bed and felt most of his anger drain away in astonishment at the sight of Merlin laying pliant and pouting in his bed, hibiscus flowers blooming wildly in his hair.

“Arthur,” he whined in a ludicrously needy voice. “What’s happening?”

Struggling for composure, he snapped back a little more harshly than intended with a bitter sounding accusation rather than the commanding reassurance he’d intended.

“You’ve managed to somehow get us enchanted, Merlin, you utter imbecile!”

Clearly, he was enchanted. They both were. They must be.

He was just about to call for the guards when a pillow, obviously aimed at his head, came flying from the direction of the bed. Arthur stared incredulously at the sheer audacity of the action and was about to tear into him when Merlin grabbed a set of keys from the table and hurled those too.

“You utter, **PRAT**!” Merlin yelled.

Arthur was forced to duck and weave his way towards the door as he was bombarded by fruit, dishes, and even his own boots. Merlin hurled abuse along with each item, screeching about how he’d faithfully served and saved his “oblivious, fat, princely bum” countless times from danger. Some of which he didn’t recall ever even facing in the first place!

When Arthur finally managed to reach the door, he was breathless and more than ready to go off again only to be caught off guard by a wave of shame at the expression on Merlin’s face. Pupils dilated until only a thin band of gold remained he looked utterly debauched, heartbroken, and more than a little terrified. Arthur was at a loss as to what to do, and when those strange eyes began to water he nearly had a panic attack right there on the spot.

“NO! No tears, Merlin! It’ll be fine. I promise. Just-- just stay here and I’ll go fetch Gaius.”

Until the day he died, Arthur maintained that he never ran from the room that day. He retreated, with aplomb and dignity, to politely ask Gaius to save him from this madness.

 

\-------------------------

What was he going to do? Arthur _knew_ now. He must know!

Merlin couldn’t deal with this. His focus was shite and his eyes were burning with the urge to cry. He replayed everything that's happened since he woke up and could only come to the conclusion that there was something deeply wrong with his magic. He’d never felt this utter lack of focus before, this inability to control his emotions, and it seemed to come upon him all at once. Until this morning, there was no sign that he was suffering from anything more serious than a bit of a cold, and now here he was ravishing the crown prince and growing plants in his bedroom.

The plants!

“ _ **Forséare**_!” At his somewhat frantic command, the hibiscus fell from his hair and withered along with the ivy innocently engulfing the room.

_’Stay here and wait for Gaius? Sure. The safest place to be when surrounded by mind altering magic, obviously, is the Crown Prince’s bedroom. The King will never find me here!’_ Merlin thought, a bit hysterically. Then Merlin remembered that whenever Uther visited he had a disturbing tendency to simply open the door and stride in. The thought of being discovered like this was enough to dissipate any lingering heat and send him running after Arthur for help.

 

\-------------------------

He hadn’t felt this embarrassed about himself since his father walked in on him wanking as a boy. Shifting uncomfortably, he explained to Gaius what happened this morning. He was careful not to leave any detail out, no matter how much he sorely wished to. He knew his father came to Gaius often for advice over the years and, though they thought it secret, Arthur knew too that sometimes those meetings included discussions of magical threats to the kingdom.

“You say that this magic affected your senses? Then I must ask you to forgive me Sire, but I must inquire as to Merlin’s condition...?” A delicate pause here and Arthur could feel his face redden in humiliation and anger.

“I didn’t violate his trust,” he replied stiffly. “I told him to wait for us to see to him. I--” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I thought it best if I informed you of the situation before taking further action.” Unspoken were the words: _‘So I don’t do anything I will regret.’_

“Very well then, Sire. We had best see to Merlin then.” Gaius went to grab his medicine bag, a strange expression on his face, when the door burst open.

There stood Merlin, panting and leaning against the door, his hair a riot of cowlicks, flowers, and... butterflies? Arthur opened his mouth to demand an explanation as to why he disobeyed a direct order when a piteous howling came from the other side of the door, followed by insistent scratching. One of his hunting hounds.

“I think we have a problem.” Merlin’s guilty sounding statement wasn’t very reassuring.

Arthur looked down to where a couple of bunnies were snuffling at his bare feet with abandon and then incredulously around the room where a handful of assorted squirrels, chipmunks, and even mice scurried happily about. Huffing, he glared as Merlin locked the door and slunk further into the room, deliberately ignoring his gaze, and sat at the table where a Wood Warbler happily pecked at what must be his breakfast. His eyes were that strange orange-gold again.

Arthur was abruptly lightheaded, but not with desire. Over the years he’d faced his fair share of danger, fought for his life against monsters and sorcerers alike. He wasn’t an authority on magic but his mind, now clear of the its influence, understood what eyes like those meant. He felt sick to his stomach.

Merlin sat there hand feeding the little bird more bread, not at all aware of how badly Arthur wanted to wring his scrawny neck. He’d even gone so far as to take a threatening half step in Merlin’s direction when he caught the expression on Gaius’s face. It took a minute for Arthur to recognize it for what it was: guilt.

“Merlin,” Gaius started, not once looking away from Arthur’s stupefied expression. “Is there anything you need to tell me? Have you done something?”

“No.” Was the quiet response. Honest.

“Very well then. From what I understand so far I believe I may have an explanation. Though, I must research a bit more to be absolutely certain.”

Arthur gritted his teeth but said nothing when Gaius continued.

“I believe it may have something to do with how Merlin managed to save your life after your encounter with the Questing Beast, Sire.” Gaius was pale, but his gaze still steady on Arthur’s.

Frustration was a living thing and it crawled its way out of his throat in a snarl. They’d both lied. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he didn’t leave **now**.

“I have a meeting with the council and then training with the Knights. I will return directly afterward and expect a full report on just what is going on here, and Merlin, you are not to leave these rooms until I return. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sire.” Gaius responded for him, his relief palpable.

This was too much for Arthur to take in at once. There were too many things he didn’t understand, and he needed time to think. Spinning on his heel, he strode out, slammed the door behind him and ignored the hound camped in the hallway.

 

\-------------------------

Magic pulsed under his skin as if it had its own heartbeat, causing Merlin to shift uncomfortably. He fed a piece of bread to a little squirrel that stared adoringly up at him before he took a fortifying breath. “Gaius?” He ventured.

“Merlin. Your eyes...”

Merlin lifted a hand to his face curiously before he caught on to Gaius’ meaning and felt his heart stop in his chest. Grabbing a cup of tea off the table, he waited for the liquid to settle and focused on his reflection. Sure enough his eyes were glowing, must have been glowing the entire time Arthur was here. He went numb at the realization and the cup fell from his limp fingers, spilling tea across the table and scattering the creatures gathered around him.

Abruptly, he stood. “I have to go.”

“You can’t-- Merlin!” Gaius called after him but he was already out the door and running. Head ducked down and reckless in his rush to reach the cavern. He hoped Kilgharrah would have the answers he needed. He was desperate.

 

\-------------------------

“Dragon! Dragon, I need your help!”

There was no response, only his own words echoing back at him. He tried again. Explaining it. Explaining all of it. Crying out helplessly into the darkness about his lack of control and how Arthur _knew_ now and that he’d failed his destiny. Still there was no answer.

“Tell me what I’m to do.” Was his last mournful request.

“Can you not guess, young warlock?” Kilgharrah’s arrival lacked the usual fanfare and drama that he normally chose to indulge in. He stood half in shadows and his eyes shone dull and glassy in the torchlight. His expression blank. If Merlin didn’t know any better he may have been tempted to think that the dragon looked... distraught.

“I don’t have time for your riddles! Please! I need to know what’s happening to me.” He said.

“The power of life and death is not something man can truly wield. It belongs to the realm of magic and the will of the Gods. It pains me to look upon you, young warlock, filled as you are with the spirit of the Divine Mother. A feeling I have lost, trapped as I am here. It is a cruel reminder. Go. Return to your mentor, and if he cannot see what stands before him then he has fallen farther than I had dreamed.” His voice was harsh with anger and all Merlin could do was watch as he swiftly flew up into the far reaches of the cavern.

 

\-------------------------

Feeling dejected and even more confused than before Merlin carefully made his way back, finding Gaius sitting at the now clean table and surrounded by piles of books.

“Sit down Merlin.” He sighed. “I was not exaggerating when I said this fluctuation in your magic was connected to the events that occurred on the Isle of the Blessed.”

Merlin quietly settled at the table and listened.

“From what I know of what happened that day I believe Nimueh’s death may have had far-reaching consequences we couldn’t have foreseen.” He continued, fingers steepled.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked.

“There is one thing I must check before I can be certain but I believe you may be host to some exceptionally powerful magic, magic that does not belong to you. I will require your assistance.” Gaius’s voice had the slightest of tremors and that wasn’t reassuring at all.

“What do you need me to do?” Merlin murmured, pulling blooms from his hair.

“I need for you to try to isolate the magic flowing within you, see if it has source you can identify. It may be difficult because it will not feel foreign to you. Close your eyes and calm your breathing.” Gaius intoned. “Focus on the blood pulsing in your veins and the beating of your heart.”

Merlin eased his way into the meditative state. It was easy for him, and even more so now with that constant pulse of unusual magic underneath his skin. Eventually he began to drift, only half aware of his surroundings, and concentrated on the rhythm that pulled on his bones. It drew him away, further away than he’d ever been before from himself, and he wandered in a place of darkness so deep only the smallest pinpoints of light could be seen in the distance.

His heart beat loudly in his ears, almost deafening in volume. It quickly grew into something that didn’t even sound as if it belonged to him. Merlin followed it to its source and was almost immediately overwhelmed by its immense power. It yanked and dragged him down, as relentless as the tides, until he spun wildly in the deep with nothing to cling to. He was trapped between the devouring void and a vast white leviathan, unable to breathe and utterly terrified.

It was futile to scream, but he tried anyway.

_“Merlin, can you hear me? Merlin. Merlin! **MERLIN!** ”_

“Gaius -- !” He couldn’t find his way back.

_“Merlin, I need you to listen to me. Breathe, and remember where you really are. Picture it and pull away! Do it now!”_

Gaius sounded so far away but Merlin tried his best anyway and forced himself to breathe, to remember the acrid smell of boiling tonics and the pain of sore muscles.

_“Good, Good Merlin! Now you have to relax and keep focus. Listen to the sound of my voice and use your senses. Can you hear me? The void isn’t real Merlin. The ground is right here beneath you, feel the stone. Now breath in and **come back**!”_

Awareness returned with a vengeance, his entire body _aching_ , as if he’d fallen from a great height. Yet he’d only fallen off his chair onto the floor. Gaius knelt beside him, face pale and drawn with worry.

“What **was** that?” he croaked. The terrible sound eased and eventually grew silent, its last easy pulses gentle, almost as if in apology.

“Something I never thought possible.” Gaius answered, visibly shaken. “I had suspected, but couldn’t be certain, and even then I had not counted on your connection being so strong.”

“Connection? Connection to what?!” Merlin knew better than to cut him short but he needed some answers, and soon, or he might go mad.

“The Goddess.” Gaius stated, eyebrow raised in furious disapproval.

Disbelieving silence. “The-- **_What_** Goddess?!” Merlin sputtered, slowly getting to his feet and gingerly resettling at the table.

“Magic is a part of the Old Religion but it’s not the _only_ aspect of it. As with any form of worship it holds both sacred tenets and even a spiritual divinity and that is often forgotten by many, even the oldest of worshipers. One does not need to be aware of the more orthodox traditions, or even follow them to use magic, of course, if they have the knowledge. Priests and Priestesses, however, generally choose to worship in a more organized manner and have a greater knowledge of how to access the greater energies of the world. Nimueh was the last High Priestess with this knowledge that I’m aware of.” Gaius shuffled about, making tea, and it was all Merlin could do not to interrupt again. Birds and other small animals littered the room, almost hiding, listening with unnatural silence.

“You see, as with many systems of belief, the Old Religion, too, has figures that are held most dear to its worshippers’ hearts. There are several aspects but they represent all the sacred tenets in that they seeks balance, have great will, and does not intend harm. The Horned God and the Mother Goddess of the Old Religion are no longer spoken of, but Nimueh was an avid worshipper of the Goddess. It was because of her knowledge that she became High Priestess, and was able to wield the power of life and death.” Merlin watched as Gaius reclaimed his seat at the table, setting fresh, hot cups of tea down between them.

This was confusing. Hadn’t Nimueh been, even a little, like him?

As if he’d asked the question aloud Gaius gave him the answer.

“Not all magic users are like you Merlin. As I’ve said before you are quite... singular. No, in order to accept my sacrifice and harness the power of life and death Nimueh had to invoke the Goddess using an ancient ritual called ‘Drawing Down the Moon’. I aided her in this, so that **She** would see that my sacrifice was willing.”

Merlin was flabbergasted. “But, you swore never to do magic again!” He could see Gaius’s hands shaking around his cup.

“I no longer practice magic but I still believe, and sometimes that can be enough.” He was silent for a moment then continued, abruptly, as if Merlin had never interrupted him.

“The moon is one of the Goddesses symbols, and is said to represent her many facets. The ritual itself has the practitioner call upon its power and invite her to enter their body and speak through them. The High Priestess who successfully completes the ritual acts as the Goddess, while in her trance. Not quite an Avatar, but not that far from it either.” Gaius took what looked to be a bracing sip of tea and continued. “The ritual is usually held under the light of a full moon, and yes Merlin, I am aware that there was still daylight, the sun was still in the sky but so too was the moon. I prayed to the Goddess, invoking her, as Nimueh fell into her trance and used the Cup of Life as a focus, raised it into the air and charging the Goddess to hear her will.”

“How is that even possible? Magic is one thing but commanding a--a-- GOD to hear your will? That’s absurd!” Merlin interrupted. He didn’t know what to think, couldn’t imagine demanding that sort of favor.

“It’s not the terrible thing you think it is, Merlin. To perform the ritual is like attempting to catch the attention of a star, if you can manage it, and asking it to look only at you. There cannot be room for doubt, fear, or frailty; for once completed for all intent and purposes they _are_ the Goddess. A part of her, at least.” Gaius’s eyes were clouded in remembrance and he suddenly looked much older than Merlin had ever seen him.

“Nimueh was many things, but never weak-willed or indifferent. She followed in the traditions of the sorceresses of Thessaly, whose loyalty was legend and their practices powerful. It was said that if a High Priestess of Thessaly invoked the Goddess she could command the moon, withhold the day, and needed no ship or wings to traverse the skies and sea.” Gaius sighed and Merlin petted the squirrel that had snuck onto his lap during their conversation, unwilling to distract him from his train of thought. The shock was finally fading and he could barely feel the magic skittering under his skin anymore. Even the flowers were mostly gone from his hair.

“You sound as if you were close.” He dared say.

When Gaius met his eyes to answer, Merlin could clearly see the see the regret shining in them. “I have had to make many difficult decisions in my life, but none of them were as hard as those that brought me here today. I swore an oath, an oath to _harm none_ , and what Nimueh asked of me was to do just that. It was not something I could live with, an abuse of power and a betrayal of the Goddess we served that I could not forgive.”

Merlin had rarely heard Gaius speak on a subject with such reverence. It was an insight into the man he’d never had before and couldn’t help but be touched that it was shared with him.

“Now, Merlin, I need you to tell me what happened after the ritual. Everything that happened, leave nothing out, not even the smallest of details.” Gaius listened intently to what he had to say about that day, Nimueh, and even Kihgharrah’s strange behaviour. Arthur did, as well, later that day, but not with as much patience. More like with a dumb-founded air of thinly veiled disbelief.

 

\-------------------------

To be fair, it was a lot to take in when you were avoiding each other and trying not to make direct eye contact for the sake of public decency.

“You’re not serious.” Arthur had heard many tales in his time and this had to the tallest, and most ridiculous one yet. “You mean to tell me that Merlin, _Merlin_ , bartered his life to an evil sorceress in exchange for a _magical cup_?! That-- that this _cup_ somehow cured me of the Questing Beast’s poison and that _Merlin_ then **killed** the sorceress because she tricked him and tried to kill _you_?!”

Gaius solemnly nodded at him. Nodded! As calm and collected as if he’d been speaking of the weather and not acts of treason that would get them all burnt at the stake.

“She hurt my mum, and Gaius, and threatened the Kingdom. I _had_ to!” Merlin insisted, sitting cross-legged on the floor and holding what suspiciously looked like court with a bevy of small woodland creatures.

“That doesn’t excuse the rest of it. What about the ****_rest ___, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice was low and raspy with his anger, and very deeply buried hints of hurt.

“You -- you use magic. **Are** magic in a way, if what Gaius said is to be believed and it’s supposedly as much a part of you as the color of your eyes!” There were words for what he was feeling, many words, but at that moment he could not find even one that did it justice. “You never said a word!” He hissed instead.

“I can’t help it if my eyes are blue.” Merlin mumbled absently, unable to speak it aloud. Shaking, sweating, and with no real ability to focus either from the looks of it. “I’m sorry.”

“They are _not_ **BLUE**!” Arthur roared, incensed.

They really weren’t. They were almost black again, with thin bands of gold around the edges and they were driving Arthur mad! That damnable scent was hanging in the air again and wreaking havoc with his self control. The knowledge that magic was playing on his, not quite acknowledged, attachment to his manservant was infuriating. He’s never before wanted to punch something so badly in his life.

“The ritual must not have been properly completed Sire. A life for a life was the cost but because of Merlin’s actions powerful forces are trapped here now. Despite Nimueh’s death the magic, the essence, of the Goddess remains until it can be used to restore balance. It merged with the nearest acceptable vessel for safekeeping, so as not to cause damage to the world.” The expression Gaius gave him was almost sickening in how earnest it was.

“What sort of damage?” One had to be prepared, after all, in case the idiot managed to get himself found out and killed. Arthur tried not to think too much about why the possibility of Merlin’s execution rattled him so, or why it made him suddenly think of highly detailed methods of escape involving horseshoes, Morgana’s hair ribbons, and about a third of the castle’s treasury.

Clearly, it was the work of nefarious magic.

“It’s hard to say exactly Sire, but storms, tornadoes, earthquakes, and various other natural disasters are to be expected at the very least.” Gaius answered cautiously.

Lovely.

“Right. So we find a secluded spot well away from any innocent bystanders and have Merlin **will** himself something nice into being. Perhaps a pony.” Arthur scoffed mockingly.

“You’re a terrible person.” Merlin whined. He grabbed a large piece of honey bread from the plate Gwen had dropped off earlier and bit into it with teary eyes.

“At least I wasn’t mistaken for a _priestess_ by a deity with all the propriety of a rutting boar!” Arthur sneered. Ignoring the tug of offended chivalry in his chest, Gaius’s scandalized expression, and Merlin’s weepy gasp of outrage. Then the kitchen cat hissed at him, a barn owl hooted indignantly to his face, and Arthur couldn’t resist baring his teeth threateningly as he struggled to get a hold of himself.

“I admit that the... connection you two are experiencing may seem a bit strange but I believe I may have an idea why.” Gaius said stiffly. “As you know, the spring equinox is upon us: Ostara as it’s referred to in the Old Religion, and it is said that the Goddess is as one with the earth and follows her cycles. It was Fall and Winter was fast approaching that day on the Isle. It is entirely possible the magic went to rest with its onset and is only now emerging with the bloom of spring.” He paused here, as if unsure of Arthur’s reaction to what he was about to say.

“In the more poetic texts concerning the Goddess it is said she becomes a maiden at this time, flowers blossoming in her wake, and goes in search of her consort. The consort, of course, is her equal opposite, the God, who is newly returned from his sojourn in the underworld during winter. Very symbolic of the seasons, and symbols can be a very powerful thing. Merlin is currently a sort of avatar of the Goddess, so it would not be out of the realm of possibility that he would be compelled to find his own as well.” Gaius coughed and cleared his throat at their blank stares. “His own _consort_.”

“You’re saying I have the qualities of a God?” Arthur replied flatly. He felt distracted, disturbed and oddly flattered at this bit of information.

“I am **not** a blossoming _maiden_!” Merlin bit out at the same time. A few bluebirds flew down to his shoulders to twitter at him in a what sounded like a reassuring manner.

Arthur could tell that he wasn’t reassured in the least.

“Yes, Merlin, but that does not change the fact that you are the bearer of a great trust. No doubt your deep, elemental connection with magic and unique existence was a factor in the choice.” Gaius sighed, then turned to Arthur, obviously uncomfortable. “Perhaps the Goddess has found some other means of restoring the balance and returning to the earth, one directly related to Her connection with nature. Sire, you do have the required qualities to be a suitable representation of the Sun God aspect in ritual and appear to have gained Her favor. You were conceived during Yule, which correlates to the God being reborn as the Solstice Sun in our legends. The day of your birth falls during a month when it is said that the Sun has a powerful influence on mankind. Lastly, you’ve recently escaped certain, _fated_ , death from the bite of the Questing Beast. Perhaps if we enact a fertility rite honoring this legend, and Merlin speaks as the Goddess to bring life to the earth for Ostara, balance can be reached and the power returned.”

Arthur thought longingly of Ivan and the mind-numbing concoction he’d served last night, pinching the bridge of his nose in consternation. “You expect me to break my father’s law and not just allow, but **participate** in the use of magic?!”

“No,” Merlin said, immediately followed by Gaius’s quiet, but firm, “Yes, Sire.”

He stared at them both in disbelief.

“I would be lying if I said that, even if you did not play the role of the Sun God in the ritual, any aid on our behalf at this point would be treason, Sire. You are free of any and all responsibility up until this moment Arthur. I would not ask you to go against the King but for the Kingdom, and on behalf of the Goddess, I will ask. Will you grant us a day’s respite? One day to gather what we need and leave Camelot? We will take care of this, far from here, and never again return.” Gaius’s gaze did not waver.

Arthur felt something rip and tear in his chest as he harshly whispered, “Yes.”

The ensuing silence was unbearable, even the birds fell mute, and Merlin’s face was a strange mixture of utter relief and absolute loss. Arthur couldn't bear to look at it and left.

__

 

\-------------------------

“Merlin... Merlin... _Merlin_!”

“Huh-- Wha-- Yes?!” Merlin jumped, turning back to Gaius who was staring down at him from the sparsely packed wagon with a concerned expression on his face. They’d barely had time to grab supplies for the journey, much less pack extra belongings. His eyes stung as he thought of all the things they’d left behind. Their home, their friends, even Kilgharrah and... Gaius’s books.

“We have to hurry.” Gaius urged the plodding grey donkey to a faster pace as Merlin took one last longing look behind them at Camelot, its shining white walls and opulent towers striking in the distance, before adjusting the hood on his cloak and moving forward.

 

\-------------------------

“Sire? I’m here with your breakfast,” Ivan called timidly, knocking politely before letting himself into Arthur’s chambers balancing a large tray, hands clammy with nerves. He’d failed to fulfill his duties properly last time but he’d do better this time. He had to. The Prince was counting on him after all, what with Merlin still sick and the Court Physician tending to what looked like the beginnings of plague in one of the outlying villages.

Every hand was needed, yet the Prince had said that Ivan would be taking over Merlin’s duties as manservant for the time being, that Merlin had gone so far as to _request_ him _specifically_. At least until he was recovered enough to resume his duties. Ivan didn’t question it and wouldn’t let him down for the world. He’d never felt so proud of himself in his life.

 

\-------------------------

It was strange without Merlin around. Strange and very boring.

Arthur was awake when Ivan came in with breakfast the next morning, ready to carry out his duties with enthusiasm. The boy was all happy smiles and clumsy hands, so awfully similar to Merlin that it made Arthur sick with yearning, and It’d only been one night. The promised day was over and still he said nothing. Instead, he lied.

The following days dragged by at a snail’s pace. He was utterly useless in council, unable to catch a thing during hunts, and training became a test of will to keep focus as the faces of those executed for using magic imposed themselves over those of his partners. Worse still was talking, to anyone really. The self-loathing that filled him from spewing lie after lie as he was asked over and over if he’d seen Merlin, or knew when Gaius will be returning, was staggering. Granting them the single day of respite he’d promised was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

He’d even lied to his father.

Eventually it occurred to Arthur that Merlin must have done this too. He must have carried the same weight of guilt and self doubt Arthur was holding, fought the same uncertainty, every day. Along with that thought came the realization that Merlin had feared for his life, feared for the lives of those he loved, and had faced the means of their destruction, _every day_. Yet still had done nothing about it. Nothing!

His imagination constantly wove tales that would plague him with anger and remorse. He could easily see Merlin and Gaius huddled by a tiny fire as unknown creatures stirred in the night and bitter winds blew. Could picture noble Gaius, weary and hunched, skulking in shadows to hunt down a suitable volunteer for their ritual.

Could see him finding a man resembling Arthur, a strong, stubborn, willful, and arrogant man. Possibly a pig farmer. Some dirty, clingy man who was born at the right time and had escaped a horribly mundane death. An accident perhaps, that left him malformed in some way. It happened all the time, and such incidents could make such bitter and angry men. Harsh men, who wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of Merlin in his magic-addled state, who couldn’t possibly understand the sanctity of self sacrifice for the greater good, and who would have no care for control or respect. A man who would use Merlin. Hurt him.

It was more than he could stand.

He soon left under the guise of a solitary hunt to make up for his recent lackluster attitude towards his duties, promised his father meat and stories for their table during the feast that was to take place tomorrow, and then saddled his fastest horse.

 

\-------------------------

There was something deeply wrong about all this.

They had traveled a surprisingly short distance, hadn’t even left Camelot, before they arrived at a rather idyllic looking cottage surrounded by an area of woods full of budding elm trees. Some old friends apparently lived there, a couple, Jack and Diana. They owed Gaius a great debt, it turned out. He had fostered Jack in medicine and saved Diana from execution because she was more skilled at hunting than the men in her tiny village, which, of course, meant that she **must** have used magic. Idiots.

They were some of the kindest people Merlin had ever met. They were also much like Gaius in that they abstained from magic in accordance with the law, but still chose to follow the ways of the Old Religion. Upon arrival, they had been welcomed as family, kept warm and fed, and were fussed over in obvious delight. They were willing to help.

Merlin should have felt something, some emotion, but there was nothing except that relentless thrumming under his skin and a stillness deep inside that was almost numbing. The flowers bloomed sparsely in his hair now and his eyes didn’t glow anymore. It was as if the magic inside him was falling back to sleep and he’d been reliably informed that was not a good thing.

Even after Jack, who had all the right qualifications, offered to participate in the ritual and put an end to this madness, as it apparently didn’t _have_ to involve... intimacy, Merlin still couldn’t feel anything but highly disturbed. Diana was not only okay with all this, she had _volunteered_ Jack for the job, had offered to help structure the ritual and made highly inappropriate jokes about his “qualifications”, much to Merlin’s disbelief. He’d never encountered anyone like them before. He felt he _should_ have been scandalized by their behaviour but wasn’t, and when he saw Jack smiling down at Diana as if she were his world all he could really feel was heartsick.

Merlin’s destiny had brought him to Camelot but he hadn’t stayed there because of it, because of magic. He’d stayed because he had something, someone, he believed in. He had a home, and something to build and make great. He’d _chosen_ to stay. He chose Arthur and the Goddess knew it. Merlin realized, to his distress, that while any honest offering made to the Goddess would be welcome it also wouldn’t be enough.

Nothing would ever be enough for Merlin, only Arthur.

Damn it all.

 

\-------------------------

He was running out of time.

Arthur had no idea what they had planned after fleeing the castle, but he knew that the sun was about to bring the beginning of the spring equinox with its rising, and he was lost with no sign of Merlin and Gaius to be found. He was just about to backtrack and venture down one of the more traveled roads when something moving in the treeline caught his eye.

It was a stag. A white stag. A very large white stag if the antlers were any indication and easily the biggest one he’d ever seen. He absently remembered that he was expected to bring back some game for the great feast tonight but quickly dismissed the idea of going after it. He may need to hunt later, but for now he had more pressing prey to catch.

Tired, dispirited, and focused on his mission, Arthur was taken completely off guard when the stag suddenly jumped from the treeline and sent his horse racing into the woods. Despite his strength and skill, Arthur still went flying off its back and tumbled deep into the woods.

 

\-------------------------

Almost time now.

Merlin knew. He felt it pulsing in his bones, and wasn’t ready for it at all, but since when had ever been prepared for the magical mayhem in his life?

He’d watched the sunrise and mentally readied himself for the ritual when he heard a sound, a terrified whinny in the distance. Almost without thinking he ran toward it, surprised at the concern and wild exhilaration flooding through him but not giving it a second thought until he was tumbling head over heels and then landed on something hard and lumpy.

It took him a minute before he saw what he’d crashed into, and when he did, he suddenly couldn’t breathe with how tightly his heart was being squeezed in his chest. Arthur looked wonderful with his clothing all askew, twigs sticking out of his hair at odd angles, and a fierce scowl on his scratched and bloody face.

“Arthur,” he breathed, a bit helplessly.

 

\-------------------------

“Get off me you idiot!” Arthur snarled, and Merlin did with surprising speed and a smile on his face, one big enough that Arthur couldn’t decide whether to punch him or just strangle him.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked. “I thought you would be in a village somewhere by now, hawking your dubious charms at the market for world peace.” The smile fell from his face instantly to be replaced by a narrow-eyed glare.

“I’m about to save _your_ kingdom by harnessing complex and dangerous magic,” Merlin hissed back. “What are _you_ doing here? I thought you’d be back at the castle, lying abed and fattening your arse on sweet bread and wine.”

That was a bit more abuse than Arthur was willing to take, so he felt completely justified in attempting to throttle the scrawny idiot. Belittling his position, having the gall to throw the magic back in his face, and somehow still being Merlin, the best friend he’d ever had, was beyond vexing. _Completely justified_.

 

\-------------------------

Merlin couldn’t take it anymore.

There was rarely a time when he _wasn’t_ lying to Arthur. He was forever curbing his tongue, carrying out _ridiculous_ orders, and desperately fighting to make an utterly hopeless dream come true. So when Arthur came at him, he was ready for it. Welcomed it, even. He might go down but he’d be damned if he’d go quietly. He didn’t have anything to hide from Arthur anymore.

They rolled around the damp forest floor kicking, scratching, and screaming like fishwives. Merlin hurled abuse at the top of his lungs and struggled to get out from underneath a kneeling Arthur who was trying get his hands around his throat. Merlin wasn’t having it though. He bucked, kicked, and pointedly listed all the times Arthur had strutted about, convinced that he’d somehow emerged victorious and saved the day by simply _existing_. When it had been _Merlin_ who’d averted the latest disaster. “Warbling and puffing up like a little peacock. As if you had _anything_ to be proud of!”

“Oh, like you’ve _never_ asked me for my help? Relied on me or benefited from my position?" Arthur wheezed after receiving a particularly vicious kick to the stomach. He pulled and grabbed at Merlin’s legs as if he wanted to **claw** his way up to Merlin’s neck. Arthur easily blocked the majority of Merlin's attacks and showed no compunction whatsoever about throwing Valiant, Lancelot, and even Ealdor back in Merlin’s face. “How many times have I put not just my reputation, but my name, my _life_ on the line with nothing to go on except your word? At least I _tried_ to trust you, you conniving little weasel!”

Finally finding the needed leverage, Merlin actually managed to kick Arthur away before he sat up and tackled him to the ground. “I **wanted** that trust. I did! How was I supposed to bring it up though, Arthur? Or return it? _How_?! If I did that then you’d have had to _choose_ , and that wasn’t something I could ask you to do!”

Merlin was furious, nervous energy rolling through him in waves, and as he straddled Arthur’s lap he briefly wondered whether how successful he’d be if he went for the eyes. “I was handling everything just _fine_ on my own.”

Merlin had about a half a second to realize he probably shouldn’t have said that before Arthur’s fingers were in his hair and yanking him down into a kiss. Aside from being raised to uphold honor, loyalty, and brotherhood, Arthur was also a bit of a bully, one with a proprietary view of his victims. He was the only one allowed to make them suffer, and Merlin probably shouldn’t have forgotten that little detail.

 

\-------------------------

Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d showed so much restraint in a fight. Everything Merlin said had some truth to it true, but it was the clear sound of self sacrifice that echoed behind every word that finally caused Arthur to snap. There was no indication of any magic-induced hysteria to excuse it either.

Merlin’s lips were far too pretty for a man. Arthur always tried not to notice, but it had been harder to ignore of late. So he grabbed him by the hair and decided to stop trying for awhile. Just nipped and licked his way into Merlin’s mouth until he could feel him shaking in his arms. He wasn’t willing to settle for just that, though, if they were going to do this then Merlin had to want him back, and they _were_ going to do this.

Decision made, Arthur slowly drew his hands down Merlin’s face to his shoulders and his chest, then hips, where he hesitated for just a moment before he firmly grasped and pulled him closer. Merlin was suddenly fully seated, flush on Arthur’s lap with no doubt as to his intentions. The trembling sigh against his mouth was rather endearing and more than enough incentive for him to continue.

So Arthur wrapped one arm tight around Merlin’s waist, grabbed his knee with the other, and very deliberately spread his thighs wide, until their cocks were pressed tightly together. He had just been about to coax Merlin into kissing him back when the thick scent of hibiscus filled the air and Arthur’s attention was drawn to Merlin’s eyes, and he watched as they flared gold. He’d had just enough time to make a low, gratified sound before the fever caught up with them.

Merlin’s fingers dug into his back and shoulders, hard enough that Arthur knew there would be marks later, pulled him close and had started to rock and strain against him. “Nngh--! Arthur, _Arthur_!” Merlin gasped into his ear. “We won’t be able to make it stop this time.”

Arthur clutched at him as every nerve in his body sang its approval. He would have tried to form a more coherent, and perhaps dignified response, but he was far too focused on the small pink mark on Merlin’s neck. It must have been from a few days ago and Arthur wondered how he could have missed _that_. It was clearly visible and just _begging_ for his attention.

Merlin must have thought so, too, because when Arthur put his mouth to it and began to nip and suckle he started thrashing and crying out helplessly. It wasn’t until Arthur started rocking in time with his thrusts, though, that Merlin had actually begged, in a raspy little whine, for something more. “Not -- like this, Arthur. Not like this! I -- I need -- we have to --”

Arthur knew. There was a small thought at the back of his mind that said this was a bad, bad idea. For the life of him, though, he couldn’t remember why. The scent of flowers and ivy made it difficult to think. Surely if it had been that important he would remember it. Right?

It wasn’t until Arthur had loosened Merlin’s breeches and slid his hands in to grasp and knead at the surprisingly plump flesh there that the small, niggling doubt became a full fledged vocal exclamation of fury. Merlin was... wet. He shuddered and whined in protest but Arthur didn’t care, he shoved him off his lap and practically ripped off his trousers. “It’s not what you think, I _didn’t_ Arthur! No one’s-- that’s not why-- it was preparation for-- for just in case something happened!” Arthur didn’t want to hear any of it, he wanted to see it for himself.

Merlin was turned over and onto his knees, flushed with desire and humiliation, as Arthur examined him and pointedly ignored his clearly aching cock. This was why giving in was a bad idea, Arthur thought in a vicious haze. Unable to resist touching _just a little_ , he tried to come to terms with the fact that whatever they may have between them, Merlin was here on his knees, panting, prepped, and wet for a _stranger_ to use. _“Just in case...”_ The very idea of it sent him into an indignant rage. Goddess or no, magic or no, Arthur wasn’t going to take advantage of him in such a way. Or allow anyone else to, for that matter.

Arthur’s fingers fluttered lightly over the slick heat between Merlin’s cheeks and smoothed the oil down between his thighs, painfully slow. There were flowers absolutely _everywhere_ and Merlin was pliant and panting beneath him in a highly distracting manner. Arthur clung determinedly to his self control, though. He frowned, cupped Merlin’s sac, rolled it gently in his oiled palm and gruffly whispered into Merlin’s ear, “Don’t forget why we’re here. You have something you have to do so you better not screw it up.”

The reminder of their situation must have helped pull Merlin back from his frenzy because he immediately turned his head to catch Arthur’s bottom lip between his teeth and bit as he growled back. “Stop being a prat Arthur and make yourself useful.” Merlin twitched his bum expectantly.

Arthur flushed. “No.”

Merlin looked incredulous. “No?!”

“No.” Arthur was firm. “I’m not-- we’re not doing that.”

He made an incoherent noise of protest that Arthur silenced with a kiss. He seized him up but kept the touch light, delicate, and almost courtly, wrapped an arm around to work Merlin’s blood-heavy cock with wet, ruthless efficiency. He dizzily deemed the maneuver a success because Merlin had started to keen _obnoxiously_ loud into his mouth. Just when he thought he had the upper hand, however, Arthur felt his own sorely neglected dick throb and twitch as a strange pulsing began under his skin. It beat in an inexorable rhythm that seemed determined to pull him to release along with Merlin. He groaned despairingly and knew that he’d come in his breeches at this rate, if he didn’t get them off _right now_. Merlin, the clot, laughed at him in a delighted sort of way, as if he knew.

Arthur ended up snapping the laces in his hurry, and cursed as he shoved the fabric down to his knees and pressed Merlin back down. He responded with a full body shudder and slowly bent over as urged, obviously wanting but also clearly uncertain.

“Merlin.” Arthur sighed, and shook his head before he briskly ordered Merlin to close his legs and bring his knees together. When he didn’t comply, just moaned confusedly, Arthur gave him a smack to the rump. “Close your legs, you greedy little twit!”

“ **Fine**!” Merlin bit back irritably. He crossed his ankles and pressed his knees close together. He looked distracted while he did, as if he was listening for something. Arthur didn’t like that and took the opportunity press himself between Merlin’s surprisingly muscled thighs; groaned at the heat and solid pressure of it.

“What -- Arth -- ?!” Merlin whined. “What are you _doing_?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just steadily started to flex and pump in time with the rough strokes of his hand. There was enough of that cursed oil that he didn’t have to worry about being careful. He just hauled Merlin closer with an iron grip and let all the anger, frustration, concern, and _yes, ok **fine** ,_ jealousy, that had built up inside loose, and fucked into those luscious, clenched thighs with hard, brutal thrusts.

Merlin slid forward, almost completely horizontal, and was forced to lean on his forearms to take it. His body was taut with need and Arthur tried not to completely _lose his mind_ at how _good_ it sounded when Merlin begged for it. How he pleaded for _“more, please more”_ , and called Arthur every name in the book because he was a _“selfish, cheating bastard”_ for not giving him what he truly wanted. He would have considered maybe feeling bad about it if he hadn’t been so fascinated by the way Merlin keened and clawed at the ground in his anxious pleasure. Whatever it was Merlin had to do Arthur hoped he did it soon because he had no idea what the hell _he_ was doing besides giving into temptation.

Sweat dripped down Arthur’s neck and made his shirt cling to his back. He gritted out Merlin’s name insistently, trying to get his attention. It was no use though because Merlin was _gone_ already; just gave a sharp cry and coated Arthur’s hand with his spunk.

“Merlin, you--!” Arthur stuttered angrily, body tight with tension.

“I know, I **know**! Merlin rasped.

Arthur opened his mouth to say more, but orgasm snuck up and hit him with the force of a rampaging bear. Needy little sounds fell from his mouth in a constant stream as Arthur felt his release hit his hand and dribble down to join the mess of oil and pre-cum on those blessed thighs. There was a soft, ragged cry and Arthur felt, with some disbelief, that Merlin was actually still hard in his hand.

“Oh! Oh you-- you little _trollop_!” Arthur choked out. Merlin gibbered something unintelligible to the ground and Arthur caved. “I can’t believe -- Fine. _Fine_! I’ll give you what you want. I’ll have you, all of you, **but** I don’t appreciate an audience, so do whatever magic you need to do and finish the damn thing!”

After this Merlin had **better** thank him for being such a gentleman, and never again refer to him as anything less than kind, considerate, and noble. _Heroic_ even, as patience was never one of Arthur's virtues. Arthur licked his lips and eyed Merlin’s face hungrily as he used the thick moisture in his hand to furiously work one last short, hot spurt out of Merlin who thrashed and panted weakly against him.

“Wri -- Wridiannngh, _Wridi_ \-- ah _damnit_!, _**Wridian**_!” Merlin bellowed. Lightning briefly flashed in the clear blue sky and a warm, gentle drizzle began to fall: the first rain of Spring.

They lay there crumpled in a debauched daze in the damp grass, staring up at what had to be the most anti-climatic act of divine intervention ever witnessed. Arthur wondered if he’d missed something. “Merlin, are you yourself again?”

“Who else would I be, you clotpole?” Merlin murmured.

“What I _mean_ is, was that it? Shouldn’t there be...” Arthur hesitated, “more?”

Merlin’s face was stiff but his voice was almost even when he responded, “No.”

A slightly terrifying thought occurred to Arthur. “Is --” he cleared his throat and tried again, “is it always this easy? Magic. Is it always this easy for you?”

There was a short silence before Merlin carefully answered, “Sometimes.”

Arthur’s world turned a bit at that. This -- **_this_** was easy. It had _always_ been this easy for Merlin. Magic really did come as naturally as breathing to him. Not only that, it was _powerful_. The ability to house a _deity_ , to work great acts with a word, and the kind of power kingdoms went to war over.

He had a moment where his ego was bruised spectacularly by the realization that Merlin really _wouldn’t_ need even _one_ blow to take Arthur down. It was a remarkably heady thought, and his cock twitched valiantly in approval, much to his mortification.

Then Arthur’s mind listed, with brutal efficiency, all the ways in which such power could damage or even destroy Camelot if he let Merlin be, if it twisted. His stomach rolled violently in disgust at the mere idea of Merlin coming to harm, much less dying because of him. Almost instinctively Arthur’s arm came up around him and pulled him closer. Merlin nuzzled trustingly into his chest and gave a contented sigh and this, of all things, was what made Arthur Pendragon blush.

 

\-------------------------

Something bothered Merlin.

The ritual , if you could call it that, was a success. He’d felt the magic leave his body and return to the earth, and was more exhausted than he’d ever been before in his life. Yet, he couldn’t stop thinking of Arthur’s hoarse promise and his palms practically itched with the urge to touch. Stranger still, he knew that Arthur could _tell_ that Merlin was still fixated on him, and instead of acting repulsed as he should was instead actively eyeing him back.

They managed to keep a polite distance between them the entire way back to the cottage but they weren’t able to stop _looking_ at each other. Merlin had always been aware of Arthur, knew how he moved, but now it was _different_. Now they _knew_ , and the knowledge was heady, addictive, and full of possibilities.

They arrived at the cottage fairly quickly and paused in front of it, startled. There stood Arthur’s horse, happily grazing in the sun and being brushed down by a humming Diana while Gaius and Jack were well into a game of chess. It was obvious they’d all been there awhile.

“What is going on here? Where have you all _been_? Is that a pipe? Are you _smoking_?” Merlin squawked in outrage.

“Glad to see you boys made it back safely,” Gaius called out jovially as he took a long, contented pull from the brightly colored wood. “Good job on completing the ritual.”

“It’s done then? No more tiny woodland creatures following Merlin around like ducklings, no more uncontrollable... episodes?” Arthur demanded, tossing Jake and Diana a wary look.

“Indeed. No more random expressions of of the Goddess’ magic, Sire. Her essence is no longer trapped within Merlin’s body and the crop seeds will take especially well this year, and perhaps even next year as well.” Gaius puffed happily.

“But, I thought that an equal exchange was required? A life for a life?” Arthur asked in a dark tone. “I’m not going to suddenly be unable to wake up one day, am I?” For the first time since he was small child, Arthur received the full force of Gaius’s disapproving eyebrow. “Perhaps you’d best ask Merlin about that,” the physician advised.

Arthur turned towards Merlin with a demanding sort of look on his face that was more arousing than it should have been, rather than intimidating. Merlin shivered helplessly in reaction and had to look away, embarrassed, when he finally answered Arthur’s question. “You know the Goddess was trapped here because of Nimueh’s death and we just weren’t aware of her presence. I had offered my life for yours on the Isle and it was accepted. So we just needed to return the piece of the Goddess that was left here to wander, release it back into the cycle and restore balance.”

Suddenly Arthur was standing in front of Merlin, had shook him and demanded to know, “Why?!”

He knew what he was being asked, and the answer was a lot harder to say out loud than Merlin had thought it would be but he managed to say, “I offered my life for yours, not my death. My destiny has always been at your side.”

There was a brief, hesitant, silence before Arthur solemnly nodded in acceptance and moved to stand beside him. Merlin’s smile was blinding.

 

\-------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> For more detailed information on the ritual please according to my prompt please see: [ Drawing Down the Moon](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drawing_down_the_Moon_%28ritual%29)
> 
> _Forséare_ \- sear, dry up, wither  
>  _Wridian_ \- put forth shoots, be productive, grow, flourish
> 
> In classical times, ancient Thessalonian witches were believed to control the moon, according to the tract: "If I command the moon, it will come down; and if I wish to withhold the day, night will linger over my head; and again, if I wish to embark on the sea, I need no ship, and if I wish to fly through the air, I am free from my weight." - Wikipedia: Drawing Down the Moon
> 
> The ritual Nimueh performed could have included “Drawing Down the Moon” to call upon the powers of the Goddess in order to have access to the power of life and death. The person enacting the ritual would temporarily be considered the Goddess and what they saw are seen as her words.The spell actually heard in the show could easily have been her directing the power she had called upon to do her will. While it wasn’t quite night time yet in the episode it was late enough that both the Sun and the Moon could have been in the sky at the same time. If so, having both moonlight, a focus(the cup), and the presence of a former Priest (especially a pious one) she would have had the components needed to perform the ritual (“Drawing Down the Moon”).
> 
> It’s also entirely possible that Nimueh still had the Goddess, or aspects of her power, within her when she died. She still had the “focus” in her hand when Merlin showed up which makes it possible that the ritual was incomplete and remained that way because Gaius didn’t die per say. Her death could have caused an imbalance which attempted to work itself out, as nature does, by transferring the aspect of the Goddess into the nearest appropriate vessel or “Priest”(Merlin) for safe keeping. The strange weather that appeared during Nimueh’s death could have been an indication of this. The energy could have easily hibernated during winter and begin to become active again as the Spring Equinox approached. Being a vessel/container for the energy was supposed to be a temporary gig after all and with the power awakening Merlin would have to return/release/use the energy he has been holding in trust for the world, possibly in ritualistic form.
> 
> “When day and night are equal, the Goddess as the "maiden of spring and dawn" dances across the land at Ostara/Eostre(Spring Equinox), causing the flowers to sprout. The God ascends in the first of spring from the underworld with the new green growth.” - Wheel of the Year Wikipedia
> 
> Now if both the Sun and the Moon were in the sky at the same time when Nimueh performed the ritual it wouldn’t be that far a leap to assume that the “Sun God” aspect of the Horned God could be used as a key component in returning the energy. While Gaius had been present during the ritual as a representation of the High Priest to call upon the Goddess he is too old to act as the Sun God’s representation in the ritual they would need to perform during Ostara to release the energy and restore balance. The “Sun God” representative might not necessarily have to be magical if their role is mainly symbolic as symbolism could be a very important aspect of ritual in the practices of the Old Religion and is important for many Pagan rituals to this day. The person chosen must be suitably comparable to the appropriate aspect of the Horned God during the Spring Equinox.
> 
> **Simplified:** Male, Young, Virile, Fire/Sun Sign, has returned from the Underworld/Death
> 
> Arthur could fit the bill of “Sun God” nicely as in the show his birthday just so happens to take place during a warm, dry, green season which could easily be August. Thus making him a Leo and his primary planet, according to Astrology, the Sun. His conception, and the magic cast to induce it, could have occurred during the fall/winter months and would correlate to the Wiccan and Neopagan tradition of the Green Man/Horned God being reborn during Yule as the Solstice Sun. Bonus points due to his conception which could have made him more accessible to the primal energies of the world.
> 
>  
> 
> Episode Details:
> 
>  Nimueh using the power over life and death to sacrifice Gaius with the Cup of Life:
> 
> \- (phonetic spelling) **Ic, seo heahsacerd, the acwelle, strengthe ealdan aewfaestnesse!**
> 
> \- (possible spelling) **Ic, séo héahsácerd, þe ácwele, strengþe ealde æwfæstnesse!**
> 
> \- Literal translation = I, that/the high priest, thee die strength/power old/aged/ancient piety/firmness in law/religion.
> 
> \- Possible meaning = I, the High Priestess, kill you, by the power of the Old Religion!
> 
> \- Via Merlin Wiki


End file.
